


Mutually Assured Attraction

by lipeviez



Series: My Fleurmione Week 2021.1 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Day 1: A Crush is Revealed, F/F, FW2021.1, Fleur is a menace on the road, Fleurmione Week 2021.1, No angst!, Post Hogwarts, Romance, biker Hermione, fleurmioneweek, fleurmioneweek2021.1, flirtation, light humor, there was no Triwizard Tournament, yes you read that correctly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 18:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30059916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipeviez/pseuds/lipeviez
Summary: Hermione Granger gets roped into giving motorcycle lessons to Fleur Delacour, and wants to ask her out, but very well may die before she gets to.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Series: My Fleurmione Week 2021.1 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211477
Comments: 26
Kudos: 127
Collections: Fleurmione Week 2021.1





	Mutually Assured Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> Fleurmione Week 2021.1 is here! Check the tumblr for the prompts. fleurmioneweek.tumblr.com
> 
> Day 1: A crush is revealed

Hermione paced along the sidewalk in front of a muggle café, waiting, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans. Today was the day. Today was the day she would finally ask Fleur Delacour out. She would do it as soon as the woman arrived, point to the café Fleur had once told her about as a favorite haunt and where Hermione had asked the woman to meet her, and smile her most charming smile. She could do this. Right?

Who was Fleur Delacour?

Only the most intelligent and intriguing witch she’d ever met. And a whole lot of ‘p’ words like prim, proper, proud, and posh. Oh, and French. So very French. And pretty. Had she mentioned pretty?

Yes, Hermione’s head was definitely turned upside down by this woman.

Fleur also happened to be temporarily assigned to advise her at the Ministry of Magic. She’d recently moved to England around two months ago to start a job at Gringotts, and later came into Hermione’s department as an expert on Veela to help draft legislation to expand the rights of those with non-human heritage.

Hermione had learned from her experience with S.P.E.W. back at Hogwarts when she was ten years younger and so very naïve; how she’d assumed what house elves wanted or needed without learning more about their culture beforehand. She didn’t want to make that mistake again. Her office reached out to the various communities of beings and creatures and announced that new legislation was in the works and that her office would appreciate feedback and suggestions on the most pressing needs of those communities. The response was immediate and enthusiastic, and included no small amount of suspicion, but that was to be expected. What was unexpected, however, was how the small Veela clan that lived deep in the Forbidden Forest in Scotland responded. In addition to sending their own representative, she got word that a Veela who worked at Gringotts as a curse-breaker would also come in part-time to comment on Veela interests.

She had bristled at not receiving someone who had more clout, thinking her efforts weren’t being taken seriously, especially after being stunned into silence by her thrall when the blonde first arrived. Hermione didn’t like being so affected and after taking a moment to clear her head, she was ready to dismiss Fleur Delacour as nothing more than a nuisance, only to learn that she was a highly respected member and future leader of a large Veela clan in France. And given that the French clans had greater representation in French wizarding society, the Scottish clan wanted that perspective in these negotiations.

That reminded her of another ‘p’ word she could use to describe the Frenchwoman. Passionate. Fleur was an incredibly passionate woman; passionate about her heritage and especially passionate in ensuring Hermione’s office didn’t leave any loopholes in the legislation which could be used to harm her people or any of the other impacted communities. With her sharp mind and even sharper tongue, Fleur had run circles around the brunette and her superiors with blunt questions and well-reasoned arguments. Yes, she was beautiful, but the younger witch knew better than to be drawn in by looks alone. Hermione was in awe of the woman’s mind and heart, and it was that which had led to her attraction, spurred by a burning need to know if Fleur was just as passionate in her personal life as she was in her work life.

It had been nearly two weeks after Fleur started coming in that the woman discovered Hermione rode a motorcycle. Her black, late model Triumph Bonneville wasn’t her everyday mode of transportation. She mainly liked to take it out on weekends; to head out of the city and into the countryside for a day before heading back home to spend the rest of the weekend catching up on work. The blonde pestered her for three days straight, trying to convince her into giving her lessons, saying she wanted to buy a vehicle and thought a motorcycle would be more enjoyable than a car. The brunette had been working her way up to asking Fleur for a date and figured this would be a great way for them to get to know each other better before revealing her feelings. So, she agreed.

The first lesson involved Hermione painstakingly describing the important parts of a motorcycle and the various traffic laws she would be expected to follow. Fleur had patiently listened, and only rolled her eyes a few times at the brunette’s emphasis on safety. Hermione thought the woman’s exasperated expression was adorable.

For the second lesson, Hermione handed her a spare helmet and they went for a short ride. The witch relished the way Fleur would wrap her arms around her waist, and enjoyed the warmth behind her. Stammering and blushing, Hermione would try to remain focused on instructions for navigating city traffic but that was made difficult when Fleur would lean in from behind to hear her speak above the engine noise, pressing her soft front into Hermione’s back. They almost collided with a car that day. She hoped the blonde hadn’t noticed.

Next came the practical lessons in an empty car park. How could one be empty in the middle of London? Well, this particular car park actually belonged to the Ministry of Magic which used the small surface lot as a place to train aurors in how to drive muggle vehicles when they had to work in muggle areas. For Hermione’s purposes, it helped that it was typically empty after hours during the week and on the weekends. And since it was on magical property, if for some reason a passionate Frenchwoman got so frustrated she let loose with random bursts of magic, it wouldn’t be seen by those outside the wards.

Hermione had Fleur sit on the motorcycle and practice starting the engine and stopping. They spent the next few lessons focusing on driving in the car park. A quick study, the blonde did very well with circles and figure eights. Some wobbling in maintaining balance at a stop, some hesitance with gear shifting, but Hermione was proud at how far Fleur had come in so short a time. But she was also sad because it meant the lessons would end soon. What was also ending soon was her presence at the Ministry. The sections on Veela were complete and Fleur had to go back to her job at Gringotts. The two hadn’t really socialized outside of work, with the exception of those lessons, so if Hermione wanted something to happen, she had to make her move.

Today was the last lesson, and the plan was for Fleur to take the motorcycle out onto the streets, with Hermione behind as her passenger. They’d done it before in the empty car park, and Hermione had definitely gritted her teeth and closed her eyes at some points, but she knew the best way for anyone to learn how to be assertive on the road was to actually get out there. Fleur had nailed down enough of the basics, and was very insistent that they progress to this point, so Hermione grudgingly relented.

Hermione heard the distant pop of apparition in the alley beside the café, and her stomach fluttered in anticipation. Turning to the alley, she gnawed on the inside of her cheek and when the blonde appeared, she bit down even harder, doing everything in her power not to laugh.

The Veela was wearing what looked to be a brand-new, bright orange leather jacket. It had way too many buckles, and fringe, and oh Merlin was that glitter? It looked fit for a fashion show, which sort of made sense. Fleur could probably make a serious go at being a fashion model. But that was neither here nor there. In addition to the oh-so-loud-it-was-shouting jacket, the woman had in her hand a neon pink helmet with a sparkling unicorn sticker on the side. It almost looked like it was glowing. The whole thing was so outlandish, and the colors clashed horrifically, that Hermione’s first thought was that Fleur was playing a prank. But her face was so serious and earnest, the younger witch didn’t have the heart to tease her. She also knew Fleur was very sensitive and she certainly didn’t want to ruffle her feathers on the day she wanted the woman open to dating her. At least the woman put her hair in a sensible low ponytail and was wearing comfortably tight, dark blue jeans along with her well-worn black boots which she’d always had on during lessons.

The woman walked towards her along the sidewalk, ignoring the passersby who looked at her strangely.

“Salut, ‘Ermione. I’m so excited. You better ‘old on tight, oui? I wouldn’t want you falling off on your first real ride with me,” said Fleur cheekily, a raised eyebrow emphasizing the suggestive nature of the remark.

“I can assure you I can handle anything you hit me with,” replied Hermione, proud of herself for not letting Fleur’s flirting get her tongue-tied. But that win was short-lived.

“Nobody said anything about ‘itting, but if that is something you are into I can certainly accommodate.”

Hermione choked on her own saliva and began coughing. Fleur’s eyes twinkled, obviously recognizing her victory. While Hermione tried to regain her composure, she noticed how Fleur’s eyes took her in, and could tell the blonde liked what she saw even though the brunette was not wearing anything different than her usual attire for their lessons. Hermione wore faded blue jeans, a chocolate brown leather jacket zipped up over a white t-shirt, and brown leather boots. Her wild brunette curls were tied back in a half ponytail.

She opened her mouth to say something about the café, the whole reason they were meeting here instead of the car park, but words failed her. It was around four o’clock in the afternoon on a Saturday, so there wouldn’t necessarily be rush hour traffic but there would be enough. If they were out for an hour, Hermione could still invite the woman to coffee or stretch it to an early dinner. Arguing with herself that this was a better plan, she turned her thoughts to Fleur’s ride.

“Erm, I’m still not sure it’s a good idea for me to go with you on your first ride out on the road. It’ll change the handling of the bike and it really is best for beginners to get a feel for it while going solo. You’ll be alone most of the time anyway when you get your own bike so maybe you’re better off starting out under those conditions.”

“But what if I stall? Or worse?”

“Then you restart,” Hermione answered. “And if it’s an accident, then call for me on this galleon. It has a Protean Charm on it. I’ve got a trace on the bike so I’ll be able to find you.”

Hermione pulled the fake galleon out of her pocket and reached out to give it to her but Fleur shook her head and pouted.

“Non, I would feel much better if you were with me. That way, if anything were to ‘appen, you could be there to guide me through it. S’il te plaît, ‘Ermione. The tank is full, oui? The day is gorgeous. Ride with me.”

And really, how could Hermione resist after such cute begging?

“Oh, alright,” grumbled Hermione with a small smile. “But I won’t be in your ear the whole time. You need to develop these instincts yourself.”

After all of that, the brunette was secretly pleased. The prospect of having her arms around the woman one more time made her heart race; she hoped it wouldn’t be the last time it happened.

Hermione made sure no one was watching and shrunk her spare helmet to fit in her pocket. Then she picked up her own helmet off the seat of her bike, put it on and said, “Shall we get going?”

Thirty minutes into the ride and Hermione heavily regretted her decision. As warm and amazing as Fleur’s body felt against her front, there really was no making up for all of the near-death experiences. In fact, on more than one occasion, Hermione had been very tempted to disapparate and let the Frenchwoman deal with the whole thing on her own. But she wasn’t a quitter and kept reminding herself that she still wanted to date the woman, assuming she didn’t die first.

For all of Hermione’s reminders about safety, Fleur rarely glanced in the mirrors or looked to make sure a lane was open before moving over, not to mention failing to engage the turn signals altogether, resulting in many honking horns and shouting drivers. There was also the fact that the Veela seemed to delight in making Hermione scream by accelerating to hair-raisingly fast speeds or careening into too-sharp turns. The jerking stops and starts made the brunette tighten her grip around Fleur’s waist each time and bite her tongue so that she wouldn’t offend the woman with all of the cursing she wanted to do. Not that the blonde was exhibiting a similar restraint.

And why was Fleur demonstrating her colorful French vocabulary with such vigor? Because they couldn’t go five minutes without the bike stalling. Hermione tried to stay patient. She repeatedly told the blonde not to pull the clutch all the way in and hold it there too long, and not to let it out too fast, and to give more throttle. She also found that she had to constantly remind the Veela to downshift as they approached a stop. To no avail.

The engine cut out at one such stop, thankfully in a residential area that she wasn’t very familiar with, and there were no other cars waiting behind them so Fleur didn’t try to restart the bike right away. Suspecting that frustrations were boiling over, she opened her mouth intending to ask if Fleur wanted to get dinner. Purely as an act of self-preservation at this point, although she wouldn’t be opposed if it led to romance. But then Hermione felt the woman shaking in her arms and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought Fleur was crying. Her heart jumpstarted when she heard the laughter. And Hermione started laughing, too, relieved the woman was taking it so well.

Fleur turned her head and said, “You ‘ave been very patient, mon amie. My flat is actually a few streets over. Per’aps we should call it a day and go ‘ave some tea?”

“I’d love to,” replied Hermione, gently squeezing Fleur’s waist to reassure the woman that even if today’s lesson was a bust, that she was still there to support her. A soft hand dropped down off the brake to cover Hermione’s hands, a silent message of thanks, and then quickly moved back up to the handle.

Fleur told her there was not a lot of street parking near her place but she had a private garage in the alley behind her building so they could park Hermione’s bike in there. Even though the flat was nearby, Hermione prepared herself for more jerking stops and starts and was surprised that the ride was smooth. They were still going faster than she was comfortable with but there was no more wobbling. Fleur’s posture was also different. Instead of tentative grips on the handle bars, she held them confidently and shifted gears like a seasoned expert. Hermione didn’t know what to think, but she still held on tightly through the more reckless turns.

They soon arrived at the garage. Fleur slowed the bike, waved her hand wandlessly, and when the garage door opened, they drove inside. The blonde turned off the engine and Hermione got off the bike, followed by Fleur. She hadn’t really been paying attention to the contents of the garage but once she took off her helmet, her jaw dropped at the sight of a red motorcycle.

She blinked. Confused. She put her helmet on the seat of her bike and looked at Fleur. Fleur’s smirk started small but then it turned into a full-blown grin.

“That’s a vintage Triumph Tiger… I thought you were going to wait to learn before you bought anything,” Hermione said slowly.

“Oui, I did wait until I learned. Then I bought it… about four years ago.”

Fleur waved her wand over herself and her garish outfit transfigured to a more stylish one. The orange eye-sore changed to a well-worn black leather jacket, and neon pink changed to a very pretty sky-blue helmet.

Hermione’s jaw dropped open even wider.

Fleur already knew how to ride.

“But…” Hermione’s brow furrowed. “What… Wh- why the lessons?”

The brunette hated not understanding things. And this didn’t make sense.

Fleur took off her helmet and put it on the workbench beside her Tiger, then came up to her.

“I really wanted to spend time with you,” she replied shyly. “It really is ‘ard for me to tell sometimes whether interest is genuine or just a fleeting fancy. It was also fun.”

A squeeze of her hand later and it finally clicked.

“Oh,” Hermione whispered, her cheeks heating up. She smiled. Fleur liked her. Fleur Delacour liked her!

The blonde smiled brightly when Hermione returned the squeeze of her hand.

“I take it my not yelling at you today told you I was the real deal?”

“Actually… I figured it out during the first lesson when you spent more time making sure I knew all the rules of the road instead of making up excuses to get my arms around you. And blushing prettily whenever I got close.

Feeling more confident about where this was going, Hermione pulled her in closer and linked her hands behind Fleur’s lower back. The blonde chuckled and put her arms around the brunette’s neck.

“I could’ve just been playing the long game,” Hermione insisted with a smirk.

“Non, chérie. No one can blush like you do and not be sincere.”

“Drat,” Hermione said softly. “My honest nature is revealed. Why continue with the lessons then?”

“I wanted to see ‘ow long it would take for you to ask me out. But my patience was wearing thin. Getting you to my flat today was a last, desperate resort.” The Frenchwoman exaggerated a huff at the end but Hermione also heard the truth in it.

Leaning forward enough for her lips to tease at almost touching Fleur’s, Hermione whispered, “Well, now I’m asking. Dinner?”

Fleur’s tongue darted out for a tiny lick of the brunette’s bottom lip, earning herself a gasp, before she whispered in reply, “Oui. Dinner.”

“Breakfast, too?” Hermione boldly asked, not wanting Fleur’s brazen act of licking her lip to go unanswered.

The Veela stepped back, tilted her head appraisingly, and gave a coy smile.

“That, ‘Ermione, depends on ‘ow well you pay attention to a ride when I’m the instructor.”

Hermione’s throat went dry at the blonde’s words, and a very distracting throb between her legs had her stumbling when she followed a smug Fleur out of the garage and into her building.

Having always been an attentive student, Hermione impressed Fleur in more ways than one. And dinner indeed led to breakfast, and lunch, and then dinner again, with multiple _lessons_ given in between.

They occasionally took their bikes out for a spin, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to kick off the week with something fun. Hope you liked it.


End file.
